


Three More Days

by AnimeBasketballer



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Discussions of Murder, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emetophobia, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, this is just 1700 words of goro having a bad time im sorry i wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeBasketballer/pseuds/AnimeBasketballer
Summary: Three days before he is set to kill Akira, Goro isn't handling it very well.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 23





	Three More Days

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh so full disclosure its 4am and I wrote this because I’ve not been feeling great the past few days so it’s more of a vent fic than anything so it like isn’t good or anything I just wanted to get what I was feeling out so I made it about Goro and murder lol what a crazy kid he is. I’m okay though it’s fine just one of those times lol.
> 
> Anyway I’ll actually keep writing the Futago siblings fic I’m supposed to be writing now. I swear that will be not like this mess.
> 
> tumblr is @lineheck

Three more days.

Three more days until the plan comes to fruition. Three more days until there is no-one left to stand in the way of his revenge. Three more days until his victory.

He should be excited. He _is_ excited. This little setback with the Phantom Thieves will soon be remedied, and he will be back on track to finish what he started. Even if the other thieves somehow grow enough brains to suspect him, they will never dare stand against him without their leader to guide their every move. He will be off scot free. Shido will congratulate him on another job well done, completely unaware of his own demise creeping up on him. And then he will finally, _finally,_ have justice. All that’s left is three more days.

Three more days until Akira Kurusu is dead.

He feels like throwing up.

That has become a pattern, these last few days. At times like this, late at night with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company in his empty apartment, the image of Kurusu’s soon-to-be corpse sneaks its way into his brain. He is haunted by the image of cold, dead- _but not dead yet-_ eyes, hair matted with- _he hasn’t shot him yet-_ blood, Kurusu’s brains splattered on the wall behind him- _three more days-_ like one of Kitagawa’s more ambitious artistic endeavours- _he still has time_ -

Fuck, he’s going to throw up.

He barely manages to make it to the bathroom before his dinner comes right back up. It’s a waste, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Dinner had only been instant noodles, and he had been barely able to get it down anyway. This isn’t even the first time this week he has ended up on the floor of his bathroom, chucking up his guts at the thought of his fr- _rival_ with the life fading from his eyes. He hasn’t been able to keep a meal down in days. He wonders what would happen if he stopped trying. Would he be free of the nausea? Or would he still be stuck here, desperately trying to expel the guilt from his body?

Wasn’t winning supposed to feel good?

He leans his head on the cold toilet seat, not having the energy to care about how disgusting that is. _Inhale. Exhale._ His trigger finger twitches involuntarily. His stomach churns again.

God, he is such a fool. He was never supposed to care about Kurusu. He _doesn’t_ care about Kurusu, not really. Not like a person _should_ care about someone. If this was a mental shutdown job he wouldn’t be having this problem, he would just waltz right up to Kurusu’s shadow and bang. Done. Then it would poof away in a cloud of dust and he probably wouldn’t even register he had murdered him for a couple hours at least. It would be quick, easy, impersonal; there wouldn’t even be any blood.

But no, Kurusu doesn’t deserve that. He isn’t like his other victims; he’s sure that that _golden boy_ has never done anything truly wrong in his life, he shouldn’t treat him as anything like the other trash he has been sent after. At the very least he deserves to know who it was that betrayed him in the end. 

In any case, Kurusu has a persona, so he couldn’t give him a mental shutdown even if he wanted to.

…God he is being so pathetic.

He pulls himself up off the ground, grabbing the sides of the sink to steady himself and leaning forward to stare at his bare face in the mirror. He looks terrible, his fringe is stuck to his forehead and beads of sweat are slowly dripping down from his forehead to his cheeks. Without his makeup, the dark bags under his eyes are much harsher looking. His eyes look dead.

God, what is he doing?

He isn’t some stupid teenager who can waste time panicking about his responsibilities. He is Goro Akechi. He is the Black Mask, the killer that terrifies even the highest ranking of Shido’s lackeys. He doesn’t have the luxury of hesitation. He has a fucking job to do.

He takes a deep breath, splashes some water on his face, and leaves the bathroom.

He needs something to do with his hands- He could make coffee? No, because he only has instant, and all he will be able to think about is how much he wishes he was drinking Boss’s coffee instead, and that will make him think of Leblanc, and _that_ will make him think of Kurusu and he needs to _stop_ thinking about Kurusu, because Kurusu is going to be dead in three days and he’s going to be the one to do it- _Tea_ , tea, he can make tea.

He sets some water to boil, ignoring the way his hands are shaking.

He really doesn’t know why he’s being such a baby about this. He knew it was coming from the moment he met Kurusu at the TV station. That particular death warrant was signed the day Kurusu formed the Phantom Thieves, never mind the day they actually met. He has been a dead man walking for longer than Goro has even known him, the fact that it's time for him to go _(three more days)_ shouldn’t be getting to him! He has a plan, a plan he has come too far to abandon. He needs to have his revenge, and for him to have his revenge Kurusu must die. It is that simple.

It isn’t that he wants it to be this way. The small part of him that’s still human, hidden deep down beneath the monster, wants to find a way to leave Kurusu out of this. He doesn’t want to kill the first person to treat him like a human being since his mother died. Despite the fact they aren’t friends, and never could be friends, he knows at least a part of the connection he feels with Kurusu is genuine. He loathes to admit it, but he has fun on his outings with the other boy. Their competitions, whether it be darts, billiards, or even a bet to see who could down the most shadows; all of these make him feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt in years. He cannot shake the part of him that doesn’t want their rivalry to end.

But that’s just the way that it is. Kurusu will die, then Shido will win the election and Goro will finally have his opportunity to take everything from him, just like Shido took _everything_ from him and his Mother.

Then once his revenge is complete, he won’t have to do this anymore. He will finally be able to rest, to join his mother, to leave this rotten world in a bathtub full of red just like her. Maybe he will even write a confession before he goes, let the world know he won in the end, as one final fuck you to Shido.

Except…

That would be one way to keep Kurusu out of this, wouldn’t it? If he moved the final step of his plan up. It’s been tempting, recently. To give it all up now, while he still has a single façade of a friendship to hold on to. It would be easy; he has been planning his own death since he was fifteen and he is not foolish enough to be afraid to die. He lost the right to be afraid when he killed his first victim.

And would it be so bad really? The only thing keeping him alive is his revenge, his job is all charade, he is set to murder the only thing close to a friend he has in his life, he is tired constantly from school and work and Shido’s orders- He can barely even keep a meal down on a _good_ day recently, and on a bad day he’d be lucky to stomach his usual lunchtime apple. Not that he has ever been known to eat much of sustenance when he isn't visiting restaurants for his food blog, or out with Sae-san getting sushi on the rare occasion she has time for him. Is this really all there is to Goro Akechi's life? Slogging through the days, doing the bare minimum to keep himself standing for just long enough to be able to feel the sweet satisfaction of ruining his father for just a couple hours before following him to the grave?

His eyes flicker over to the knife block, and his stomach drops. He could do it. He could put an end to this, make it so he can never ruin another life, never hurt anyone innocent ever again.

The memory of Wakaba Ishikki’s shadow flashes through his mind. 

…No. If he were to die now, everything would be for nothing. He has sacrificed far too much, done far too many terrible things, to give up now. He is being ridiculous, Kurusu is just another stepping stone, he cannot falter just because of some unnecessary feelings. They aren’t even really friends, and yet here he is considering dying so that Kurusu can live. When did his resolve become so weak?

No, he won't falter now, not while his revenge is so close. If Shido wants Kurusu dead, then Kurusu is as good as dead no matter what he does. He won’t throw away his plan, not when he is so close to winning. Giving up now would be admitting defeat, and he will not lose to Shido. He will not lose to _Kurusu._ He has far too much pride for that. If this is the end of their game, then so be it. He will not allow himself to abandon his victory when it is within his grasp.

He finishes preparing his tea. His gaze locks onto the knife block once more, but the dread he was feeling just moments ago is replaced by a strengthened sense of resolve.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Kurusu. He wants to know if Goro would like to go to Leblanc tomorrow.

Goro texts him a quick affirmation, then slips his phone back into his pocket.

He sips his tea slowly.

It tastes of nothing.

Three more days.


End file.
